


Return of the Sea Wolf

by Calleva



Series: Haesten/Saerlaith [2]
Category: The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 06:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12742944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calleva/pseuds/Calleva
Summary: This is the sequel to Hidden Treasure. Saerlaith has settled back into her quiet life in Coventry. Her family has grown and she feels content. Then she receives a message which will summon her back to her Viking lover and the most dangerous man she has ever met. Tending his wounded fighters, can she find the strength to resist the continuing attraction she feels towards Haesten, her sea-wolf?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mercian Wench](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Mercian+Wench).



Violent death is not a cheerful prospect for most people. For the Viking warrior, however, it is to be relished. To die sword in hand, having fought bravely, guarantees an eternity in Odin's mead hall with an unlimited amount of the three F's: fighting, feasting - and the other thing.

It was a warm evening, a year after Saerlaith first met her own Viking warrior. She was sitting on the stone bench in the little Venus garden, thinking. How much her life had changed since then! All they had together were two rapturous days - at least they had been for her - in which they feasted and did the other thing almost non-stop. Then he had left and her husband returned. And nine months later Niall was born. "He has my fairther's blue eyes!" declared a delighted Feargal, "he shall bear his name also!" 

Would she ever see Haesten again? She, gazed at the broken statue, which stood a little askew on account of the badly placed stick inside the statue and plinth. Venus and Mars.... shouldn't there be a statue of the God of war, her lover? That would be appropriate considering it was in this garden that she had first made love with the blond stranger. He had stolen from her, but she hadn't cared; it was only stuff. She felt that she had gained more; she had experienced passion and got Niall.

Now if Haesten were to return, he would notice a big change in the garden. It had been pruned and brought back to life by the old gardener and roses bloomed again. A pruned bush is a happy bush and gives more pleasure, she reflected. The little seedling tree that she had found in the grass and planted by the wall was growing well, a rowan tree. Eventually it would flower each May, in time for Niall's birthday and its fruit would appear around the time she first met Haesten.

"My lady, baby is crying," a soft voice interrupted her reverie. Gytha was, thank goodness, loyal. She had accompanied Saerlaith when she had married Feargal, she would no doubt remain with her forever. Saerlaith settled into the comfortable chair behind the curtain at the back of the hall, a private space where she could attend to the baby without being disturbed. 

Even if each day was much the same as the day before, at least Saerlaith had something to care for, she reflected. And she had her memories, even if she never saw her sea wolf again.

The curtain was pulled aside by an anxious Gytha. "My lady, there is a messenger for you..."  
"Does he say who he's from?" Saerlaith was bending over the crib, where she had placed the sleeping child.  
Gytha looked away, and then back again, "No," she said cautiously. 

What mystery was this? The visitor didn't look like anyone she knew; although clearly a Saxon, there was a strangeness about him that suggested he was not local.  
"Lady Saerlaith?"  
"I am. Who are you?"  
" I am Jarl Haesten's manservant. He has wounded men and they need your healing skills. Will you come?"  
Saerlaith thought frantically. Niall had been fed and would sleep soundly for a while. The two maids would watch him carefully until she returned. "How far away are you?"  
"Nearby, just outside the burh."  
"Very well, meet me as I leave by the gates. I must gather my salves and bandages. Now go!"

Saerlaith did not have to worry about making excuses. Feargal was attending the Witan, but she was often alone at other times as well. He would return in time for the harvest, but no doubt would find a reason to be off again afterwards. He and Aethelred the Lord of the Mercians were very close. 

Saerlaith rode through the gates and was soon at the Viking camp.

Haesten was there to meet her. Despite her resolve to stay calm, her heart gave a little lurch at the sight of him. Saerlaith thought he didn't look too worried but then it wasn't his manner to look overly concerned. She dismounted her horse and collected her bag of salves.  
"I am glad you have come, lady" he said giving her a look clearly meant for her alone.  
"Did you think I would refuse?" she looked coolly at him. There it was again, that connection. She hadn't imagined it.  
"I was not sure if you could get away."  
"At present I am in charge of the hall. Now let me see your wounded...."  
His eyes were soft... "I have missed you...." he murmured.  
"Thank you for the gift. It's beautiful."  
"From Venus herself. I said you should have rubies. She must have overheard."  
"A kind and thoughtful goddess."

He guided her to the largest tent, parted the flaps and she went inside. There were several injured men lying on bedrolls. An attempt had been made at washing away the dried blood, but Saerlaith could see that she was badly needed. "I will need cooled boiled water and clean cloths. I brought some of my own but this will need a lot of work." She leaned over one wounded man, "You have a lot of cuts, but also severe bruising." she rummaged in her bag for her arnica salve and handed it to Haesten's servant, "Apply this to the bruises. Now who needs me most?" She looked around. The quietest one was usually the most unwell. Saerlaith was concentrating when she felt a finger trail along the back of her neck, just above the neckline of her dress. "Not now," she whispered, looking up at Haesten.  
"Tell the able bodied men what they must do, they can help you." He said, his eyes conveying what he really meant.  
"They can assist me, but they can't do everything. You asked for my help, I am giving it." She replied sternly. His hand moved away.  
"I missed you," he muttered into her ear. Saerlaith sighed, she had missed him too.  
"Not now," she said softly, "I'm busy" and she turned to her patient and began gently to wipe away the brown streaks of old blood from the torn flesh. "If I had a needle and some cat gut, I could suture some of these wounds." She mused.  
"We could get these items, if you really need them. Might take a day or two." said Haesten hopefully. No doubt it would require more visits. None of the men seemed in mortal danger but a couple were running low fevers. There was, indeed, work to be done here.

She stood up straight and walked out of the tent with Haesten following her. They walked around to the other side where they could talk privately. He took one of her hands and studied it. "You are indeed _min lille heks_ ," he told her, then swiftly put his hand around her waist and drew her closer. She felt his breath on her face. "And your little witch needs to get on with her job." She told him with a coy smile "I see we have more boiled water. I had better go and treat the next patient..."  
"They can wait. I had forgotten how beautiful you are and how much I desire you" he purred as she tried to pull free.  
"What will you pay me for my healing arts?"  
"Depends on how many die under your care."  
"That's not fair. I have only just got here. There's a broken leg over there, I can set it but he'll need a cart to get him back to Beamfleot."  
"I have already sent for one." He gave her that slow lazy smile, "How is Venus?"  
"Still broken, still standing crooked."  
"Still hollow?"  
"You know she is." Saerlaith said archly, thinking of the bag of their hidden treasure he had found inside the statue. He grinned at her again.  
"Let's go to my tent..."  
"Let's not. I have to get on. You still haven't told me how you intend to reward me. And don't look at me like that. That's not a reward, that is an extra benefit for you, should I agree."  
"How much do you want?" He spoke lightly as if she were playing some kind of game and he were indulging her.  
"I want... I want....." she paused to think, "I want you to teach me sword skills. I heard that the Lady Aethelflaed was taught from an early age."  
"That would be possible," He thought for a moment, and she could tell he was congratulating himself on not having to part with silver. It was funny, she could read him like a book. But could he read her in return? There was a strange mutual sympathy between them which meant she could never be afraid of him. But nor could she deny the attraction she felt. Then she was melting against him and his arms were enfolding her. She had forgotten his scent, but it was all coming back to her now. He cupped her cheek with his big hand and traced her jaw with his thumb as she gazed up into his eyes. Any minute now and her resolve would be totally gone. Again.


	2. Chapter 2

That noise was getting louder. Why couldn't the local people control their children? Oh no! She half turned in Haesten's arms to see Gytha hurrying towards the camp with a bundle in her arms. That bundle was making a terrible noise.  
"Let me go - It's Niall!" she pulled free and as she stumbled forward she heard a long and heavy sigh behind her.

"Can you show me your tent now please? I'll need something to sit upon." Haesten's face brightened at her mention of his tent and then clouded as he understood the reason.  
"I have a three month old son," she told him. He looked bemused, annoyed, and then.... puzzled as he mentally began to count backwards. "Yes, quite." She hissed conspiratorially at him.  
"Niall?"  
"My husband's father had blue eyes, and it was his name." He peered into the bundle and gazed at the new little face.  
"Njal - that's the Norse version. I like that better. It suits him..." his voice tailed off and he gave her one of his cat-like smiles.  
"Either will work, I expect." She replied as he led her to his tent.

She sat primly on the lid of an old chest, looted no doubt and full of loot. She put her big shawl around her shoulders so that it draped low and thus she was set. Niall began to slurp noisily.  
"Er, um, I think I'd better check on the lads," and he had slipped out of the tent. Saerlaith closed her eyes and relaxed. It seemed funny to be in this all-male environment with a nursing infant. There were Northmen everywhere. She could see their shadows on the walls of the tent as they went past outside. She would have to go back to the hall tonight but helping the wounded men would take a lot of her time so she would need to bring Niall with her. A slow smile crossed her face, Haesten definitely would not like that. He had a wife, presumably he had encountered small children before so how horrified could he really be?

"I would like a tent of my own with somewhere for myself and the baby to sleep. I will bring my maid and she will care for us. Your men are not to molest her." Saerlaith informed Haesten. He turned away and shrugged as he walked off. He was not happy, was he?

 

To her surprise, the next day after arriving at the camp, Saerlaith was shown an empty tent and told that it was for her use. Inside were two bed rolls spread with fleeces, and on one of them was a wooden sword and a small round shield.  
"Your training begins today" said a familiar voice behind her.  
"Wonderful, but first I must check on the wounded men. Have you any armour for me?"  
"Getting it now off a fresh corpse, still warm for you." He smirked.

While the baby slept in their tent, the two women began to assess the wounded patients. Gytha could help and was already able to tie a bandage so that it didn't slip. They spent a morning washing, re-bandaging and applying salves. The morale of the men improved, not just because of the better care, but due also to the presence of Saerlaith who inspired confidence. Her healing arts had been learned in the monastery where she had stayed for most of her childhood. The nuns had encouraged her to wander in the herb garden studying the uses of each plant. She had helped the infirmarian as she tended the sick of the community. Occasionally, they would leave the monastery to help other people. Saerlaith had also learned to read and write and so been able to study the herbal books in the library.

Now she would learn a new skill. The art of killing people.  
"Ever heard of Uhtred Ragnarson?" asked Haesten as he handed her a loose tabard of metal chain.  
"Name sounds familiar. Why?"  
"He has a woman in his war band, fights like a man." He told her. Then he handed her the dummy sword and her first lesson began.  
Saerlaith had not expected him to teach her personally. As the leader he would surely have wanted to assign her to another, but no. After her first lesson he pronounced her 'eventually capable'.  
"But I'd like to practise between lessons. Is there anyone here who is young enough and about my size that I could practise with?"

And so she met Halfdan, a teenaged youth with light blond hair. He was friendly and did not seek to score cheap points. It did not take long for her to enjoy exercising sword play with him. It helped that he was about her height and had a similar reach. Of course he had more experience than she did which resulted in her tripping over and landing in a heap on the ground the first time they practised together, just as he lost his balance and fell down beside her. Their laughter came to an abrupt end when Haesten's shadow loomed over them. He wasn't laughing.  
"Baby's crying" he said sharply.


	3. Chapter 3

It can be very satisfying, thought Saerlaith. Washing dirty linens until they smell and feel fresh, free of the greasiness of repeated wear. Similarly, the bandages and cloths used to tend the wounded were being boiled in a big cauldron over the fire. The camp was fairly self-sufficient: there was water from the stream, fresh meat in the forest, and a short way through the forest was the lake for bathing. Saerlaith didn't have time for that now. She had just come from tending the injured and was taking a few minutes' rest. There would be soon her sword skills lesson and she had to check on Niall. Just a few moments' peace would be lovely, if only... At that moment she saw Gytha hurrying with a bundle of cloths, "I'll clean these next. They're from Niall and could do with a good boil."  
Saerlaith eyed the bundle. "No don't bother. I'll take them down to the lake and wash them there. As long as they are clean and dry, they'll be fine. You keep an eye on these, instead. I could do with some time alone."  
She quickly took the bundle, gathered a wash board and hurried into the trees. Solitude! She had forgotten how much she liked, even needed, to be alone at times. There was no lady garden here for her to sit in and think, as Mother Prioress would have said 'to while away the hours'. Perhaps she also needed time alone, although St Benedict had written in his Rule that idleness is the enemy of the soul. 

Well, she wasn't being idle in the camp, was she? There had scarcely been a moment to herself and Haesten had clearly been disappointed. He was used to ordering his men around, but that authority ought not to extend to her. It was good for him to be thwarted now and then. The trouble was that in the moments she did snatch to herself, such as that time just before sleep, she also longed for his presence. At least this way, she would not be untruthful if she was caught tending these men and had to justify herself. No, she had not been in anyone's bed. Well, not recently anyway.

She squatted at the lake's edge and pushed the first cloth under the water. She watched as the trail of soil merged with the clear water. She began to pummel the fabric against the board, to get out all the staining. Her arms felt stronger already from the sword practice. She smiled to herself, Haesten could hardly object to her practice sessions with Halfdan, although he was clearly jealous at how well she got on with the young warrior. Away from the big Viking base, some of the fighting men felt able to speak to her with more ease. Sometimes they spoke of their families. The tough and aggressive exterior was often a mask; in this all-male group, it was not done to seem too affable towards women. Women and girls were prey only. Yet here, on the edge of this ancient forest, she was getting to know some of the men as people, not just faceless killers. Halfdan said she reminded him of his sister. One of the old fighters, Egil, had even held Niall and rocked him. He had come from a family of thirteen children he had said, and was used to having young ones around.

Having washed and wrung the cloths, Saerlaith wound one of them around the others and stood up with the board. Time to go back to noise and work. Well it was better than sitting around at the hall; here she was needed.

"At last I have you alone,"  
She spun round. Haesten smiled at her. Before she could draw breath, he had taken the damp bundle and the board from her and dropped them to the ground. Then her grabbed her arm and drew her away with him.  
"W-what...."  
In reply he gave her a tight smile and put his arms around her. She took a step back until she felt a hard surface behind her, the thick trunk of an ancient tree. He closed in on her, gazing into her eyes. If eyes betray our feelings she thought, she would never fully understand his. He had that intensity of desire, but there was always more with Haesten. And when he looked into her eyes, what did he see? Did he understand the conflict in her heart? Her duties to Feargal, her role as mother, and her need for Haesten? She reached up to him and kissed him roughly, closing her eyes to savour the feel of him. It had been too long.....

Soon no doubt they would be lying on the forest floor - would there be any tough roots or pine cones to dig into her...? she was wondering how they could manage this when she felt the clasp at her neck loosen, and the front opening falling back revealing the pale skin of her breast. A warm hand caressed her, "Mmn, you're bigger..." Her body, blooming with motherhood, excited him but he was in no mood for gentle exploration " _Min kaereste_ you have kept me waiting long enough," he sighed as he loosened his trews. He wasn't wearing armour, just a tunic and trews and his need was obvious. "Put your arms around my neck," he ordered breathily and as she did so he reached beneath her skirts for her thighs. Deftly he lifted her, letting his arms and the tree take her weight. Saerlaith held him tightly, marvelling at the strength in his shoulders as he plunged into her and thrust vigorously. She surprised herself by her own sudden arousal after so long a time and instinctively wrapped her legs tightly around him. Haesten, her man-horse, had a demanding manhood that could only be taken fully if she were truly ready. She felt desire overwhelm her as finally he filled her completely. Oh, the glorious, wonderful man.... she dug her fingers into his long locks and gritted her teeth to keep herself from informing the entire camp of her delight. 

"Leave him and come away with me," they were walking back to the camp, her cheeks flushed. Washing clothes is an energetic business.  
"You know I cannot do that. And you have a wife already. I would be mistress of nothing."  
"You would have me, and I would care for Njal as if he were my own."  
"Which he almost certainly is. This is nonsense, _kaereste_ , we both know it."  
"I can still dream, little witch."

They had reached the camp now and Saerlaith made a point of unwrapping the damp linens and spreading them out over a large stone near the fire. They would smell a bit smoky, but Niall wouldn't notice.

Wulfstan, Haesten's manservant, or more correctly, his slave, went to buy bread and other foodstuffs as he was a Saxon and less likely to inspire trouble. Wild boar and venison were hunted and the result was a delicious stew that simmered constantly as new ingredients were continuously added. The two women did not have to cook but they spent time foraging for wild onion and herbs. Small purple carrots also gave flavour.  
"You should come to my tent tonight," Haesten remarked as Saerlaith was putting away her wooden weapons after a bout of training. "Nope, not going to happen," she replied, "I don't want this to be too open, have all your men sniggering at me behind my back, and also there's Niall. He doesn't always sleep eight hours and he'd wake you. It's not worth it to lose a good night's sleep."  
"I'd sleep better if you were there."  
"Dream of me instead," she winked at him and moved off. It didn't do to let him have his own way all the time, she thought.


	4. Chapter 4

How long had she been there now? Almost a week and the men under her care were healing well. The fevers had gone. Soon she would have to go. She had let it be known in Coffe's Tree that she had agreed to tend the wounded in exchange for the Viking band not attacking and a promise that they would move away afterwards. No one wanted violence or the loss of men.

"Gytha and I will have to leave tomorrow I think," Saerlaith told Haesten as they ate their evening meal together, seated round the fire with the others, "Your cart is here and everyone is now fit to travel. I can let you have all the bandages I came with and the salves too."  
He shook his head, "I don't know when I will see you again." Was that a hint of a whine? Not like him.  
"You'll find a way I'm sure."  
"If only to see your Irish Viking son, since you don't seem to care about me anymore." Definitely a whine.  
"He''ll do fine. Aethelred of Mercia is his godfather. Ironic isn't it? he'll probably end up fighting in the Mercian army. I think I'll send him to Lady Aethelflaed when he's old enough. She'd watch out for him. Do you think I could ever lead an army like her?"  
He gazed indulgently at her, "You could lead anything, little witch." he was silent for a while then suddenly said, "Would you give me your sword oath?"  
"What would that entail?"  
"What it sounds like. You promise to fight for me should I require it."  
"I can't possibly oppose my own people, dearest." She turned sad eyes onto him.  
" But if I don't ask for that. Give me your oath, as a warrior."  
"What trick is this?"  
"Not a trick at all. Maybe I just don't want you cutting my throat in the night... with more experience you would be as fierce in battle as Uhtred's Hild. I noticed the first time we met that you would be a Valkyrie in battle as well as in bed."  
"Hmm, I'll think about it," Saerlaith wondered what the implications would be. Haesten had a way of surprising her. But she liked the idea of being a warrior and an oathman. Maybe he'd give her an arm ring one day.

 

Niall was more settled now and had taken to sleeping longer at night as he had at the hall. However Saerlaith often woke anyway. That night she woke up in the early hours. Were it not for the light of the moon filtering in through the tent's fabric, she wouldn't be able to see anything. She sat up to check on Niall; he was asleep and breathing. She realised from the tightness in her bladder that she must get up, but didn't want to leave the warmth of her fleece. But lying in bed was going to get more uncomfortable. It must have been all the ale. Sighing, she acclimatised her vision and swung her legs out of bed. Donning her boots she pulled on a cloak, seeking the outside.

It was not necessary to have a night bucket when the forest was so close. She hid behind one of the trees at the edge. It's what everyone did. The forest's night air was like wine and she inhaled it deeply. All sorts of creatures would have come out by now but they were quiet for the present. The camp looked almost like home now, and the orange glow of the fire a welcoming hearth. She stepped forward and gazed at the sight. Everyone was now asleep and it was eerily and unusually quiet. The evenings had been such fun - sitting round the fire, listening to the conversation, trying to make out the Norse language which at times was not so different from her own. One or two of the men could sing and there would be music to a hand-held instrument or a flute. If a lot of ale had been drunk, one or two of them would get up to dance. Almost all of the men knew some Englisc and it made things easier for her. Gytha was also enjoying her time in the Viking camp. The mood was generally good and the two women would be sad to leave. It was inevitable as the camp itself would be packed up and return to Beamfleot now the wounded men could travel. 

"Quiet, isn't it?"  
Haesten had a way of catching her off guard, didn't he?  
"You too? I had just nipped into the forest and am about to go back to my bed."  
"Same here, but it's too nice a night, we should enjoy it first..." He took her elbow and guided her away from the camp and further along the forest's edge into a field. They sat down together. Saerlaith lay on her back, "I used to do this when I was little, when my parents were alive. If you lie down you can look up at the night sky without tiring your neck. The stars are so many tonight. It's like a jewel box."  
"It's still not as beautiful as you are."  
She giggled at his corny reply. He leaned over and gazed into her eyes, "I'd rather look down than up," he murmured, bending to kiss her. He tugged at the drawstring at the neck of her nightdress and pulled it down to her waist. Dark hair falling over pale skin. He loved her paleness, glowing in the moonlight. For what seemed a long while he gazed at her, taking in her whiteness against the dark of the cloak under her. Slowly he bent down and grazed her neck with his lips. His mouth moved along her jaw and then down her throat until it reached her collarbone. He breathed softly into the little hollow and planted a kiss. Then he kissed along to the base of her neck, to where it met her shoulder. His hand caressed the other shoulder, tasting the flesh with his fingers. He buried his face against the place between her hair and her neck. "You smell so good" he murmured sucking on the skin. She writhed against him in response as he began to trail kisses down her body, stopping to relish her enlarged and sensitive breasts. With his tongue he circled each nipple gently teasing with mouth and fingertips. She moaned with pleasure. "I have missed you," she sighed. "I know," he muttered, pulling her nightdress down further and kissing over her navel. The night air felt cool but she scarcely felt cold as his hands caressed and mapped every curve of her body.   
"Take yours off now," she whispered, "I want to see you in the moonlight."  
And there he was, her sea wolf, bathed in the soft light of the moon and stars. She looked up wonderingly at his muscled chest and greedily pulled him down beside her. "There's room on the cloak if you get close enough," she told him. 

Then she was looking down at him, running her hands over his chest, seeking every scar. Each one seemed to demand kisses, even the odd tiny mole. It gave her pleasure to see his face going wild with desire as her fingers caressed him, until they reached his manhood. All that week she had kept him waiting, had held him at bay. Now it was his turn for her attentions, "Come on, spear Dane," she cajoled as she mounted and slowly sheathed herself over him. In response his fingers found her cleft, hidden in the dark hair, and stroked the nub. She began to ride him harder, bearing down on him. And then suddenly he had grasped her waist with both hands and she was lying beneath him, gazing up into his blue eyes, seeing her own reflection. Placing both palms on the ground on either side of her head, to take his weight, he moved his powerful body roughly against hers, pushing and bearing down like a wild animal. They came together, rapturously. 

It was just as well they were a way off from the camp, she thought.

For a long time they lay together, entwined, saying nothing, because nothing needed to be said. Everything was understood. 

For the rest of that night, Saerlaith slept in Haesten's tent, curled up against him. Then the distant sound of crying awoke her and she got up quietly, leaving him still sleeping.


	5. Chapter 5

All the food was being eaten up. The entire camp was to be dismantled and taken back to Beamfleot. There was a separate cart for the injured men, though most were able to ride again. It would take several hours to get it all cleared and ready to move off.

Saerlaith sat by the fire helping to eat the last of the stew. Like most people, she didn't normally eat until later but Haesten wanted to travel in as much daylight as possible.

"All ready?" he asked as he did the rounds of the camp. Saerlaith sighed. Last night had been so incredible, so tender, and now she was leaving.... All week she'd been holding herself aloof, which was necessary or she'd have got nothing done. Now they were parting, she felt wistful.  
"Before we leave, Gytha and I would like to bathe."  
"Of course, Lady. I can arrange for you to bathe with privacy."  
"We will bathe together, to save time. I will hold Niall and keep watch, then Gytha will watch for me. Then I suppose I make a final check of the wounded men and leave."  
"Thank you for all your care. Have you given any more thought to my other request?"  
"The oath? I am not quite sure what it commits me to, but if it simply means I won't lead an army against you, then you can have it." Saerlaith pulled a face. It seemed so pointless. One of his games perhaps? He made to move away then briefly stooped down behind her and breathed on the back of her neck. In response she sat very, very still. He ran a light finger up to the base of her hair and dropped a gentle kiss. Moving her hair aside he noticed the little love bite that he had left the previous night. "I know what you like, little witch," he rumbled into her ear and then moved away.

Oh yes, he did that all right... 

 

Saerlaith sat by the far edge of the lake as Gytha bathed. They were too far from the camp to be spied on easily so she relaxed and fed and dandled Niall on her lap. The early meal made her sleepy and she was just content to enjoy the warmth of the day and listen to the distant sounds of the camp being packed up. Gytha splashed and washed herself with a soft bar of lye soap. Then she emerged and Saerlaith held out the large blanket and wrapped her in it.  
"It's really not cold." said the maid.  
"You mean it is!" laughed Saerlaith  
"After a while it isn't. The water is nice and clear; I feel so much better."

Now it was her turn. Gytha dressed herself and helped Saerlaith out of her clothing. The water was indeed bracing but it felt good against her skin. It had been a busy week and she had hardly had time just to wash her face and hands. Saerlaith soaped herself all over, even her hair, and then swam a little way to rinse it off. She had lived by the sea with her parents who had taught her to swim as a very young child. She always loved the feeling of water next to her skin. Washing like this made her think she was cleansing herself of the past week and its infidelities. She would return to the hall as a wife resolved to serve her husband and child again.

A sudden dull splash woke her from her reverie and to her surprise she found she had been joined by Haesten who had undressed and was now smiling wolfishly at her. She looked at him coolly.  
"The soap's over there. Where's Gytha?"  
In response he held up the soap ;"I sent her back to the camp. You don't need her."  
"I can surely decide that!"  
"You're leaving me soon. Be nice." he handed her the little bar of soap and let her wash his back.  
"That's all you get. I absolutely am not going to get any closer to you today." She announced.  
"Understood. I will leave you alone, but I could do with a good wash...."

Saerlaith sighed. There was no denying him that, surely. She soaped her hands and reached down to his buttocks. He was silent as she washed him carefully, her slippery fingers gliding into the deep crevice. He was quiet so she did the same to his chest, moving down to his groin.  
"I can't help noticing that you have a drawn sword. This is bad manners in the presence of a lady."  
"Awwww come on, _kaereste_ , you can't be so cruel.... Was last night so meaningless for you?"  
"Last night was yesterday. Today we must pack up and go home." For some reason, his assumption that she would surrender to him at any time of his choosing annoyed her. Despite the magnetism of him, or perhaps because of it, she resented him. If she gave in to him all the time, her life wouldn't be her own. He would assume she was some little slave girl who was grateful for his attentions. 'Perhaps it's because I want more' she thought, 'and he can't, or won't give it to me'.

She walked to the edge of the water and stepped out of the lake. She draped herself in the large cloth and began to dry herself when rough hands pulled away the fabric.  
"Don't - I'm cold." She wrapped her arms around herself.  
His eyes burned into her. Wordlessly he caught her waist and began to pull her down onto the grass. She slapped him across the cheek, hard.  
"I said no!"  
"You didn't mean it though!" he hissed back at her angrily, his cheek showing red where she had struck him. He snatched the cloth from her hands and threw it on the ground.  
"Lie down."  
"No".  
"Then get dressed wet."  
"I hate you!"  
"No you don't..." he caught her in his strong arms and lay her down onto the cloth. She tried to push away but he was much too strong for her. He pinioned her down and began to lick the water from her neck. His tongue swirled up the side to her ear. Saerlaith liked the sensation but was not going to let him see that. "Pig!" she whispered.  
"Pigs are nice" he agreed in his gentlest voice, "animals of Freya, goddess of love... I'll be a pig if you'll be a sow...."  
She gave a frustrated cry and tried to push herself free of him, but he had her pinned down too strongly. He began licking at the beads of water between her breasts. Shifting his position he freed one hand and began to caress her, "I love your tits" He cooed appreciatively, cupping one of them. Gently he lapped the moisture from her navel, and then moved down to the crease in her groin. He licked along it, and then up again, moving to the other side. Saerlaith squirmed. "Beast," she muttered almost inaudibly. He buried his face in the mound of dark hair, exhaling his warm breath onto her.

Then with one movement he parted her legs, still damp from the lake. She shut her eyes as he licked slowly around her mound and then explored below. Saerlaith wasn't sure if this was something normal people did to each other but it felt incredible. Of course she wasn't going to let him know so she was silent as his mouth sucked gently at one of her folds. His tongue flickered and then pushed into her opening, probing, tasting her and then swirled up to the nub in her cleft. She squirmed again. Then he pulled himself up and positioned himself on top of her. He gazed up into her face, her half-closed eyes were glazed, her mouth open. This was not a woman he intended to force - he minded too much about her, though he did not intend to let her know that. But she did not look like a woman objecting and he was sure that this particular woman would make a good deal more fuss if she really was unwilling. And she was clearly ready for him. Carefully he parted her...  
" _Kaereste?_ "  
"Uh-ah" she replied, hating how she just could not resist him for more than a few seconds. He was a liar, a thief and his word could never be trusted, but he understood some part of her that she had never before known existed. 

The earth, the forest, the trees, the lake and every living creature moved for her as their bodies joined.

The next thing she knew she was lying on the ground wrapped in the damp cloth that she and Gytha had brought to dry themselves with. All was quiet. She raised her head and saw Haesten's back as he faced the lake. He was fully clothed.  
"What happened?"  
"You blacked out, little witch. How are you feeling?"  
"Strange, light-headed. I suppose I'll get over it. I should get up..."  
"Take all the time you need. It's all right." He gazed down at her with an expression she did not recognise. Was that love in his eyes?


	6. Chapter 6

Saerlaith looked around for the final time at the space where the camp had been. The wounded men had been inspected and she had pronounced that none was yet ready for Valhalla. They would have to drink, fight and do the other thing at Beamfleot instead. Her horse was saddled and ready, there was no other reason to stay.  
"Goodbye Haesten, my man-horse," she said as he came to wish her farewell.  
"So I'm back to being a horse, not a pig?"  
"I like pigs actually. I had no idea the Norse connected them with love and humping. Strange lot, you Danes."  
"Ah but you love us anyway."  
She smiled and looked away. To her surprise when she looked back he was holding out the hilt of his sword. For a moment she wondered if he was going to suggest one final sword skill lesson.  
"Your oath, Lady? If you become a swords woman I want your loyalty."  
"Do I have yours in return?"  
"That's what an oath means."  
Saerlaith thought it would be unfair to refuse him a second time that day. Even if the first time her refusal was not as resolute as it should have been. What harm would it do? She wasn't likely to wield a sword in battle, and there was no other reason for this oath. "What do I do then?"  
"Take the hilt of my sword and promise to serve me as your lord - in battle."

Saerlaith placed her hand on the pommel of his sword; the metal felt cold and hard at her touch. She realised she'd never held a real longsword before. Suddenly it felt very serious.  
"I pledge my sword to you Lord Haesten, as your oath woman, to fight by your side when possible for me to do so".  
She released his sword hilt and looked up at him, "Will that do? I mean I can't promise to come running any time you should call for me. I have my family and my king to support."  
He smiled at her, "I won't ask you anything you cannot give to me. Promise."  
"At the moment you can't ask for anything at all, Lord. I have no sword of my own. Unless you include the wooden practice one you have given me."  
He lifted her hand and kissed it. Then from his belt he pulled out a small silver knife, the kind used to cut meat at table, and placed it in her hand. It was a very beautiful thing indeed. The little hilt was inset with a sapphire on one side and an emerald on the other. Saerlaith looked quizzically at it, "It's lovely but I can't fight with that. I might throw it I suppose."  
"It's for Njal," He explained, "A christening present. Keep it safe and give it to him when he's older."  
"It's beautiful. Thank you." She suddenly found herself unable to speak. Her face felt hot and her eyes stung. He helped her onto her horse. Gytha, with Niall in her arms, was all ready waiting to move off with her. As Saerlaith rode away from the men who had been her companions for the past week, she looked back, trying to control her emotions.

Haesten waved and called out to her: 

"Lady, I will send you a sword!"


End file.
